The Black Cat
by bonbravo
Summary: Ivan has always hated cats.


He was always there, standing in the corner.

The room was freezing, my teeth chattered and my once-warm body now trembled from the icy chills that wracked my body. No matter the discomfort, my eyes remained locked on his gaze. They were large, glowing, yellow eyes, ones that could resemble a comical black cat. In fact, he looked like a human, but I somehow knew he was really supposed to be a cat. His hair was as black as midnight, falling against his ghostly white skin. He wore clothing from another country, perhaps China. His finger nails were extended and sharp; they could easily cut into my throat if given the chance. There were two black cat ears at the top of his head that I knew could hear the thundering of my heart beat against my chest.

If I had another moment to think, I would have escaped. However, I was taken by surprise when he lunged on top of me, and my head hit painfully against the solid floor.

Now I lay pinned to the wooden floor of my school classroom, staring up at this creature of the night. His eyes- The yellowish glow and largeness that resembled a full moon- had me captivated and breathless. Despite his intimidating and horrifying stature, he smiled at me, and I could sense it was not of sinister intentions. His smile was that of gratitude, relief.

"_Why_?" I asked aloud. I did not expect an answer, I never did. I always let him have his way.

He continued smiling, before leaning down.

Further.

And further.

Until he reached my chest.

I screamed.

The pain was _unbearable_.

I begged him to stop, but blood filled my mouth, which only allowed garbled moans to escape.

He eased off, allowing enough time for me to lean my neck up to see the damage he caused this time.

My heart was on my chest, still beating. He caressed it gently, bloodstained lips kissing the pulsing organ. I swallowed hard, to keep anymore blood from rising, but choked instead. He must have noticed, because he opened his eyes and looked at me, his hand grazing my cheek.

Words left his lips, but no sound came out.

I felt his teeth sink in, and at that instant I woke up.

* * *

When I was a little boy, I had dreams of this man. Frequently I woke up in a panic, grabbing at my chest, making sure my heart was still inside me. It always was, of course. However the more dreams I had, the more scratches I would find on my body. Small, thin cuts that would get irritated when I didn't tend to them. My older sister began to question where I got all these scrapes from.

"Cats," I responded.

She laughed.

* * *

The cuts began getting stronger and deeper as time went on. I was 12 now, and I began looking for ways to stop him.

On my way home from school there was an old house I would always walk past. It had a sign in the window that read 'Psychic Readings Here!' I didn't believe in predicting the future, but I did believe in the paranormal. Perhaps the medium here could help me. I made a mental note to save up some money. Just as I was leaving, out of the corner of my eye I noticed a cat in the second story window.

It was a black cat.

* * *

I knew sister wouldn't mind that I took some of her spare change. I couldn't wait any longer for Ms. Jones to give me my pay for tending her garden; my wounds were unbearable. I approached the worn down home and shivered as an autumn gust hit my face. My gloved fist made a timid knock and I waited for an answer. I was greeted by a woman whose age I could guess was in her 50s. She gave me a calculating look, and then smiled.

"I expected you to come a lot sooner."

It sounded scripted, but I forced a smile.

"Please, please, come inside. Would you like some warm cocoa?" She beckoned, leading me through her home. The aroma of incense filled my nostrils and I wrinkled my nose. Strange looking idols and images were all around her home, and I was unfamiliar with the religions they pertained to.

"Are you religious?" She asked, pouring my cocoa into a mug. I shook my head.

"I see. Well, here. Why don't you take a seat? Then we can start," she gestured towards a round table.

I sat down and placed my hands on the table.

"Are you nervous?"

I shook my head. What was there to be scared of?

"Now, your future already looks-"

"No," I immediately cut in, "I don't want you to tell me my future. There's a strange cat man in my dreams that keeps trying to take my heart and it's getting worse and there are scratches everywhere and-"

I was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering.

Then silence.

The older woman was quiet, seemingly ignoring what had just happened, and stared straight ahead. I knew she wasn't looking at me.

"Tell me, Ivan, when did this start happening to you?" she asked.

"How do you know my name?" I asked, my throat becoming dry.

"Please don't be frightened. I need to know when this all started, so help me help you."

I knew she wouldn't answer me directly, so I didn't further question it. I wracked my brain for the memory.

"I was 9. That's all I remember…"

"And you just started having these dreams?"

I nodded. She paused, and sighed.

"You've been imprinted on. There's no way of knowing how this happened unless you remember what you did, but I can suggest you start praying. Put some idols up in your room. Go to church."

I became angry, but I decided not to express it. She was an absolute _phony_ and I'd been duped.

"Thanks for your help..." I muttered, paying her with the money I worked so hard to earn. As I stepped out the door, I remembered something.

"Ma'am, do you own a cat?"

The woman shot me a confused expression as she started to close the door.

"No, I'm allergic." She smiled, and bid me farewell.

I felt sick for the rest of the day.

* * *

There was an ambulance at that woman's house a week later. I watched as they carried her out on a stretcher. Before they loaded her in the vehicle I caught a glimpse of her face.

I froze.

Her flesh was ravaged by scratches; her eyes that were once bright and wise were now bloodied holes. I covered my mouth in horror.

I knew she was dead. Had she gone mad?

I thought this until I noticed something in the window.

It was a black cat.

* * *

Here I was, pinned by him again. He said nothing to me as he played with my entrails. He swatted at them like they were strings of yarn.

I begged him to just kill me. Get it over with.

He smiled at me, and leaned up to lick my cheek.

Why do I deserve this?

"_Ivan_" he purred, nuzzling into my neck, "_Ivan, Ivan, Ivan, I v a n..._"

I sputtered as the blood came rushing out of my mouth once again. He laughed, shoving his sharp nails down my throat, cutting into my tongue and pulling out the slimy meat. I panicked, unable to breathe or yell for help. He pulled out my tongue, and I saw a look of satisfaction on his face as he raised it to my face. He wanted me to see his work, like he was proud of destroying my body.

The man looked at me with a smile.

"What's the matter" he purred, pretending to be concerned. "Cat got your _tongue_?"

I woke up, and I started to cry.


End file.
